https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au The complete history of Australia's greatest sporting club Tue, 30 Jan 2024 23:13:09 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=5.0.21 https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/jack-regan/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:57:51 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/jack-regan/ any Collingwood player. And the most staggering non-selection of all was Jack Regan’s failure to secure the full-back post. This was a man who completely redefined the way full-backs could play. Instead of a stay-at-home ‘goalkeeper’ type, Regan decided to fight fire with fire and take on the high-flying forwards of his day at their own game – competing with them in the air and on the ground, footballer versus footballer. It produced some of the most thrilling one-on-one contests the game has ever seen – most of which Regan won. He was the lynchpin of the Magpie defence in the back-to-back flags of 1935-36, won a Copeland Trophy and placed three other times, and captained both his club and Victoria. That might not have been enough for the wise heads who chose that AFL centenary team. But it was more than enough to secure his standing among those he played both with and against. Asked in 1946 to name the best full-back he’d ever seen, triple Brownlow Medallist Haydn Bunton responded as if it were a stupid question. “The best full-back? Why, Jack Regan of course. He was streets ahead and the rest were nowhere.” His fellow Brownlow legend Dick Reynolds was asked the same question the next year, and also plumped for Regan, as did Richmond’s Percy Bentley. And Gordon Coventry was in no doubt either. “The more I saw of Regan the more I thought how fortunate I was to be playing with instead of against him,” Coventry wrote in the Sporting Globe in 1938. “Endowed with height and pace, few forwards could hope to take a mark if Regan was flying in from behind, whilst it would be practically an impossibility to spoil him for a mark if he was in front.” The man generally considered the game’s best full-back before Regan, Richmond’s Vic Thorp, was also a fan: “Regan is a champion in that position,” he wrote. “Everything that goes to make a good full-back is his. His anticipation and judgement are particularly good. He is at his best soaring over the pack from behind. His judgement then is uncanny, and his marking must rival that of anyone. No forward I have seen can beat this fellow in the air.” There were plenty of outstanding full-backs who came after Regan too, of course – famous names such as Fred Goldsmith, Geoff Southby and David Dench. But they weren’t Jack Regan. And only Dench could claim to have brought something different to the role, whereas Regan broke entirely new ground: here was a full-back whose sense of artistry and adventure made him as exciting to watch as the forwards with whom he did battle. He was tall (about 185cm) and lightly built, and exceptionally quick for a key position player. But his main assets were his leap, his hands and his kicking. He was a magnificent, high-flying mark – not unlike a defensive version of Ron Todd at the other end of the ground (though much more graceful) – and a beautiful drop kick with either foot. His judgement was seemingly flawless, especially in deciding when to spoil and when to go for a mark. But perhaps the defining characteristic of his play was courage. Not the normal kind of football courage, usually displayed backing into packs or throwing yourself at the ball, but the courage to back his skills against some of the finest full-forwards the game has known. With opponents as talented as Pratt, Mohr, Vallence, Moloney, Todd, Titus and Margitich, that was no small thing. His battles with South Melbourne’s Bob Pratt, in particular, are the stuff of football legend – two high-flying superstars who went at each other in a battle of pure football skills. There was little or no negativity: no blocking or scragging, double-teaming or crude attempts to spoil that would ‘accidentally’ result in a blow to the head. Instead they’d soar against each for marks, with Regan’s sole nod to his role being a willingness to punch the ball even once he was up in the heavens. These were thrilling duels that came to be a highlight of every Collingwood-South clash of the era. Regan was born in Northcote and was much more interested in cycling than football as a youngster, being regarded as a promising junior with the Northcote Amateur Cycling Club. A mate encouraged him back into footy and, after one game with Northcote reserves, Collingwood sent out an invitation. What the Pies had seen in the raw youngster wasn’t immediately apparent. He spent 1929 with the seconds, playing mostly in defence. He got his first taste of senior football early in 1930 – just over a year after his first training run at Northcote – but didn’t make it off the bench. He was awful in his first two games, and in his third had the ignominy of having 10 goals kicked on him, by St Kilda’s Bill Mohr. He actually crossed back to Northcote in the lead-up to the 1931 season, but both club and player thought the better of it and he came back to Victoria Park – this time as a forward. One day he had the chance to win a game with a kick after the siren, but missed. After later apologising to Jock McHale, the coach gave his now famous reply: “Go and throw yourself in the bloody Yarra”. Regan improved sufficiently as a forward to eventually gain Victorian selection in that role in 1933. But he was moved to defence again during those interstate games and did so well that Collingwood followed suit soon after his return. From that moment on, he was the game’s best key defender. Known as ‘Snozzle’ to his teammates (his nose was rather large), he won the Copeland in 1936 and was runner-up three other times. He was an automatic State selection between 1933 and 1939, was never even admonished by an umpire and regularly polled well in the Brownlow voting, finishing equal third in 1934, fifth in 1935 and 1936 and sixth in 1937. When Harry Collier retired in 1940, it was no surprise that Regan was chosen to replace him as captain. After just two years as captain, however, Regan stunned the Collingwood committee in January of 1942 by resigning to pursue a religious life as a lay brother with the Salesian community at Sunbury. Regan had visited the community on many Sundays over the years, umpiring games and helping out the boys with football advice, but few at the club seemed to know his interest was serious enough to lead him away from the game. A year later he joined the RAAF, and that initially meant he was able to come back to football, again as captain. But war duty kept him away from the game again in 1944-45, and by the time he returned for one final hurrah in 1946 he was 33 and never likely to regain his best form (though that last year did give him the chance to wear the 11^thdifferent guernsey number of his career – still a VFL/AFL record). After retirement he captain-coached in Kalgoorlie and country Victoria, then later became secretary of the New South Wales Football League, and returned to Victoria Park in 1970 as assistant to general secretary Peter Lucas, a position which developed into that of football secretary. He held that post for eight years, during which time his sincerity, gentle nature and good humour won him widespread praise. Regan was a much-loved figure at Victoria Park. And that affection had little to do with how good he’d been as a footballer: it was simply a reflection of his personality and character. If he had been around in 1996, he probably wouldn’t have been too fussed about missing out on the AFL’s Team of the Century. But those who saw him play were very fussed. For them there could be no doubt: Jack Regan was, and always will be, the finest full-back of them all. – Michael Roberts]]> https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/harry-collier/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:57:42 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/harry-collier/ The Sporting Globe. “In addition, he could take and give hard knocks.” Harry was not particularly fast but he was elusive, rated as a master of blind turning and twisting. He also had excellent skills, being a superb ball-handler and a good kick with either foot who was particularly dangerous near goal. His anticipation was superb, and his judgement of the ball off packs especially good. Supporters and players of the fifties would later liken the great Bob Rose to him, and that is indeed a hefty compliment — for both players. Collier was wonderfully consistent, playing his first 100 games in a row and always playing well in the big matches. His outstanding performances were rewarded with the Copeland Trophy in 1928 and again in 1930, the same year in which he would retrospectively win the Brownlow Medal. He frequently represented the State and won numerous club awards. His dedication to Collingwood was further demonstrated by the special award given to him in 1935 for his remarkable achievement of missing only one night of training in ten years. Perhaps his greatest reward came when he succeeded Syd Coventry as captain. He was an ideal choice; respected, inspirational and levelheaded enough to know when to settle his players down. Collier’s vice-captain was his brother, and the two provided an outstanding leadership team. They looked after young players on and off the field, made sure they got a kick in their early matches, tutored them in the skills of the game and basically imbued them with the club spirit. When the two led the Magpies to the 1935 Premiership over South Melbourne it provided Harry with one of his most treasured footballing memories. Its aftermath, though, led to one of his most embarrassing. Coming home from the post-match celebrations, Collier drove his car into Archbishop Mannix’s fence. He hurriedly backed the car up and drove away, but in doing so left its bumper bar wedged in the fence. As well as having to later apologise to Archbishop Mannix, the Collingwood captain had to endure the embarrassment of fronting up to the Kew police station to retrieve his bent bumper bar. After winning flags in his first two years as captain, Harry led the team into losing grand finals in the next three. In 1938 however, he was not there to join the battle on grand final day, having been controversially suspended for a massive 14 games for belting a Carlton player. The sentence was manifestly unjust, but even a 2500-strong petition did not succeed in having it reviewed. If anything the incident made Harry even more popular with Collingwood supporters. His gameness, pluck and feisty nature had always made him a favourite at Victoria Park. So, too, had his down- to-earth attitudes, his unquestioning loyalty to the club and his willingness to give anything for its success. All of which made it even harder for Harry to accept when he and his brother were told to retire shortly before the 1940 season. Harry, Albert and the rest of the players had — perhaps unwisely — become involved in the 1939 club elections. They publicly backed the existing committee against a challenge group, arguing that stability was in the best interests of the club. With their help the committee survived, but only months later “thanked” the Colliers by telling them their services were no longer required. Harry was deeply hurt by the decision, but would later return to the club as long-serving committeeman and talent scout. Collingwood’s fortunes slumped dramatically without the Colliers. But that’s not surprising; rip the heart out of any body and it will have trouble functioning. And Collingwood did lose part of its heart when it lost Harry Collier. For years he had been central to the soul and lifeblood of the team, epitomising all that is famous about the Collingwood Football Club. In his later years he became a sort of symbol to the younger generations of what the old-timers meant when they talked about the famed Collingwood spirit; in the form of Harry Collier that spirit could not have had a better standard-bearer. – Michael Roberts]]> https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/syd-coventry-snr/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:57:26 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/syd-coventry-snr/ Sporting Globe noted in 1927: “Syd seems to be electrical in his movements and a mass of energy, unsparingly throwing himself into the vigorous ruck work. Those strong shoulders of his are never idle, and he literally forges his way through anything. He takes some terribly hard knocks, but gives them back equally hard”. He was a magnificent high mark, with a good spring and splendid anticipation. When the ball hit the ground he was not lost either, and was seldom beaten by other followers in a race for the ball. He was a long drop or punt kick, and was described as having “the kicking power of a healthy horse”. He wasn’t too big on handball or short passes: whenever he got the ball he tended to boot it as far as possible. Syd was also an exceptionally smart footballer. He often had to carry the Collingwood ruck almost single-handedly, and he learned to perfect the art of playing a kick behind the play. He would rarely venture beyond the centre and would regularly rack up possessions through his astute positioning and reading of the play. Another big punt kick and the ball would be back deep in the Magpie forward line. Those footy smarts really came to the fore in the second phase of Syd’s career, when he was named Collingwood’s captain. The appointment came in controversial circumstances, when Charlie Tyson was dumped just days before the start of the 1927 season, but the controversy was quickly forgotten as Syd had his best ever season, not only winning the Brownlow Medal and the first ever Copeland Trophy but also impressing everyone with his leadership. “Syd is the all-round menace whose shrewd direction from all parts of the playground has often brought victory to the Magpies in the last few minutes of a winter afternoon,” wrote Table Talkmagazine in 1927. “He has won matches time and again by his tactical aplomb at critical moments. To the Collingwood Football Club, Syd Coventry is an ideal mixture of Napoleon and Nelson, with a dash of Caesar and Alexander the Great.” Brother Gordon had always seen these qualities in Syd, saying that he seemed “born to lead” in football. Certainly, no man did more as a player and a leader to inspire those Magpie teams. His determination, fearlessness and will-to-win frequently lifted the team to greater heights, and his in-game acumen turned many a contest. “A few words from him, if we were not shaping like winners, usually had the desired effect,” said one former teammate. Syd was a highly marketable footballer, advertising shorts and boots that carried his name, and even a tonic to cure boils! But his exalted standing in the game owed as much to his exceptional personal qualities as it did to his abilities as both a player and a captain. He was warm and kind, admired and loved by colleagues and opponents alike. He had a delightful sense of humour and was regarded by most of his former colleagues as a great man. He was also ridiculously modest, as Table Talknoted in 1927: “Adoration by the broadside never stirs his phlegm: the worship of a million plevendors would be nothing to him. Even when sweet ladies scream his triumph from the stands and fences there is not a trace of pink in his marble brow.” The tributes upon his retirement from the playing fields were as fulsome as they were warranted. “He has been the idol of the football-loving public of Collingwood,” wrote theAustralasian. “He has been to the local football club what Jack Ryder has been to the cricket club – an inspiration to those under his command. His motto was manliness and sportsmanship, and he retires with everybody’s good will.” Table Talkagreed: “Syd Coventry commands respect because of his even temper, his general sportsmanship and his fine rearguard courage in many a gloomy scene… he is the epitome of the athlete as the average Australian admires him.” The Argustribute ran along similar lines: “The game has had many champions, many fine sportsmen, but none has shed greater lustre on the sport than this man from Diamond Creek, who at the age of 35 years leaves the game he has adorned with the knowledge that he is admired and respected by all who take an interest in football.” After his retirement, Syd spent an unhappy and largely unsuccessful couple of years as coach at Footscray (a club he had tried to cross to several times earlier), before coming ‘home’ to Victoria Park and taking up a vice-presidential role in 1939. In 1950, the club was thrown into tumult following the committee’s short-lived and ill-advised decision to appoint Bervin Woods to replace Jock McHale as coach. A full-scale revolt followed which saw long-serving stalwarts Bob Rush (treasurer), Frank Wraith (secretary) and Harry Curtis (president) all forced out, and the club torn apart by internal fighting. Once more Syd stood up for his beloved Magpies by agreeing to become president. In what has become an often-underestimated part of the Syd Coventry story, he used all his personal skills and good standing to help bring the club together after one of the nastiest episodes in its history. It’s debatable whether anybody else stepping into that position at that time could have turned things around so quickly. Two flags followed during his time as president. But just as importantly there was huge growth in both the operations of the Social Club and the development of Victoria Park. By the time he retired from the post early in 1963, the club was in excellent shape off the field. That ended Syd Coventry’s official career at Collingwood. But his name and legacy endure to this day, as a byword for what it means to be a ‘great Collingwood person’. He was, and always will be, one of the true icons of the Collingwood Football Club. – Michael Roberts]]> https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/gordon-coventry/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:57:21 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/gordon-coventry/ Sporting Globe years later. That first training session was awful. It left Gordon completely demoralised, as he realised how far out of his depth he was. But Collingwood chose him at centre half-forward that weekend against St Kilda anyway – where he managed only a solitary kick (it was, of course, a goal). “I saw hundreds of lads having their first League games thereafter, but none was so inglorious as mine,” he would say later. At this stage of his career Coventry could mark and kick but not much else. He had good hands and was accurate in front of goal but he was slow, awkward and cumbersome. He was dropped after his debut, and told secretary Ern Copeland that he didn’t think he was good enough, but the Magpies persisted anyway. He returned to the team for the last home-and-away game and kicked three goals, then kicked nine more in three finals – including a five-goal haul against Carlton in the preliminary final, a performance that became famous for the fact that he also lost five teeth in the process, courtesy of Carlton’s hard-hitting defender Paddy O’Brien. He backed up from that physical hammering with three more goals in the Grand Final. This should have been the start of a straightforward path to legend status – but it wasn’t. He managed only 19 goals from 11 starts in his first full season, and a more promising 42 in his second. But then he went backwards – 36 goals in 1923 and 28 in 1924. Jock McHale kept working with him, and Coventry himself worked hard to improve his agility, his kicking and to reduce the size of his turning circle. The Magpies were convinced that there was somethingthere. But many, many fans were equally convinced that the big, hulking lad with the giant hands would never make it. He was quiet, shy and easy-going, and his play lacked aggression. Critics often interpreted this as a lack of determination or commitment. Some even thought he was lazy. The 1925 season started in similar vein, and he was dropped after the opening game. This was make-or-break time. And when he returned a couple of weeks later, everything began to click. Marks began to stick, a few good performances boosted his confidence – including 23 goals in one four-week patch in the middle of the season – and ‘Nuts’ was on his way. Never has a football club’s patience with one player been so richly rewarded. Before long he would be breaking every goalkicking record in the game. Gordon’s game was based around a strong physique, a vice-like pair of hands, superb judgement and a brilliant understanding of how to use his body to advantage. He was so strongly built – huge shoulders, a big rump, massive hands – that he was almost impossible to move when in front, and he was one of the first to perfect the technique of taking marks with his hands stretched out in front while pushing his ample posterior back into his trailing opponent. It made him almost impossible to spoil. He was neither quick nor a high flyer but he didn’t need to be. He wasn’t spectacular but he was prolific and remarkably consistent. He was almost unbeatable in one-on-one contests, and as another avenue developed a jinking, stuttering kind of leading pattern that thoroughly confused opposition defenders and gave him the yard of space he needed. With players like the Colliers, Billy Libbis and Jack Beveridge ahead of him, that was all he needed. He also benefited from a rule change in 1924 that penalised teams that touched the ball last before it crossed the boundary line. Jock McHale saw the extra benefits of playing down the corridor after this rule change, so Collingwood’s game plan became centred around swift movement of the ball down the middle of the ground – long and fast to ‘Nuts’. The result was a feast of goalscoring records. In 1926 he broke the VFL record for goals in a season – which he then broke again and again. In 1929 he became the first player ever to kick 100 goals in a season, a feat he achieved three more times. He obliterated the league record by kicking 16 goals in a game in 1929, then bettered it with 17 the next year. He kicked 100 goals against every VFL team bar one. He kicked 50 or more goals in a record 13 consecutive seasons. He was the VFL’s leading goalkicker six times; Collingwood’s leading goalkicker 16 times. He kicked a record 111 goals in finals games. His final career tally of 1299 goals stood as a league record until 1999. He was also the first VFL player to reach the 300-game milestone, and his final total of 306 games stood as the Collingwood record until Tony Shaw broke it in 1994. The comparisons with Don Bradman were justified. One of the greatest things about Gordon Coventry was that he never changed as a person. He remained humble and ridiculously modest throughout – even refusing to upgrade his boots (he basically used only two or three pairs throughout his entire 18-year career). And he remained a gentle, almost placid presence on the ground – except in 1934 when a Carlton player belted his brother, Syd, and another time in 1936 when he retaliated against a Richmond defender who had persistently hit him on a painful crop of boils that had broken out on the back of his neck. Despite that latter incident being the only report of his career he was suspended for eight weeks — missing the 1936 Grand Final. Football writers and fans alike were appalled at the unduly harsh nature of the verdict, and there was general outrage on his behalf, as well as an outpouring of support for the genial giant. Coventry, true to form, apologised to Collingwood fans for ‘forgetting my good manners’ – and promptly retired. But fortunately he later changed his mind and decided to suit up again in 1937 for what would be his final VFL season, where he kicked 72 goals to win the League’s goalkicking title for the sixth time. That was a much more appropriate note on which to end one of the most celebrated careers in VFL/AFL history. Gordon Coventry’s standing in the game is such that one end of the Docklands Stadium is named after him. He also remains the only Magpie inducted into the AFL Hall of Fame as a player (Jock McHale is there as a coach). Not bad going for a shy kid who was afraid of embarrassing himself in league football. – Michael Roberts]]> https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/dick-lee/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:56:35 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/dick-lee/ de facto Christian name. He virtually grew up around the club and Dick Condon, one of Collingwood’s greatest players, took a particular liking to him. Lee’s talents soon became evident. At the Eastern Market in those days there were football kicking contests. The distances involved were not great but the goals were narrow and the angle often acute. Wal later recalled that Dick took great delight in visiting the market and trying his skill. “He never failed to bring me home two or three shillings worth of cigarettes” said Wal. “Finally they barred him.” His marking was also exceptional, even at an early age, and it was impossible not to notice his wonderful spring and anticipation. But it was not until the age of 13 that he played his first match. He then joined the St Joseph’s team where he quickly became a star. His performances at St Joseph’s soon attracted attention, and he was given a run with Collingwood Juniors. When Collingwood played Richmond in a charity game for the Lady Talbot Milk Fund, the 15-year old Lee was chosen to wear the black and white. The following year he began training with Collingwood, but was sent back to the now-defunct Rose of Northcote to play. He returned to Victoria Park to play the last 12 games of the season, kicking 35 goals to win the club’s goalkicking. One of the most distinguished careers in Collingwood’s history had begun. Lee wasted no time in establishing himself as the competition’s top forward, topping the League goalkicking in each of his first four full seasons. In those early seasons he actually had a roving commission around the ground, spending time following the ball and getting into position near the goals when he anticipated a forward thrust. His kicking proved just as reliable as it had at the Eastern Market, and his marking improved even further — thanks to marking contests held at training using a swinging ball suspended from the roof. With his natural talents and rapid development, Dick soon was recognised as the greatest forward the game had seen. Many did not worry about limiting that accolade to forward play; they just said he was the best footballer they had ever seen. Lee was only 175cm (5ft 9in) tall and weighed 71.5kg (list 41b). But he was finely developed, and used his weight superbly to unbalance opponents at critical stages. He was also quite quick, and renowned for his lightning leads. His ground play and ball-handling were first-rate, his judgement and anticipation uncanny and his elusiveness frustrating for defenders. In an interview in The Sporting Globe in the 1940s Richmond’s great Vic Thorp, regarded by many (including Dick himself) as the greatest full-back prior to Jack Regan, had no hesitation rating Lee as the best of full-forwards. “He was more than just a good footballer,” Thorp wrote. “He was above everything else a really quick thinker. An opponent had to be on the watch not only for his dazzling leads but for the dozen and one tricks he was likely to spring … As a footballer he was just outstanding — he might have played anywhere on the field, for his anticipation and sense of the game was uncanny.” Despite all the fancy manoeuvres, Dick Lee’s real strengths lay in the basics of the game — marking and kicking. But in Lee’s hands, there was nothing “basic” about either. His place kicks were legendary, and phenomenally accurate from even the tightest angle. Sometimes he even took off his boot to kick, most notably after that famous mark reproduced so frequently (which Lee, incidentally, did not consider his best). And his marking was awesome. Even if he appeared out of position he could swing into the air from any angle and snatch the ball away. Lee became a favourite of the crowds and a hero to thousands of young boys (Ron Todd among them). As the ball flew towards him and he set himself for a mark, the crowd would chant “Dick! — Dick! — Dick-e-e-e!”, the last cry rising to a crescendo as the great man sprang and grabbed the ball. A hush would then descend on the ground as, with a real sense of the dramatic, he carefully placed the ball for his kick. A lot of it was theatre, but the crowds loved the show. As the goals mounted, so too did the records. He topped the VFL goalkicking eight times and the club’s 11. He played in each of the first four ANFC carnivals, and was an automatic selection for Victoria throughout his career. His career goal average of 3.07 is not high compared to some latter-day forwards, but these were times when four or five goals from a team could often win a game. And he was remarkably consistent, rarely failing to score. Indeed, Lee scored at least one goal in every one of the 97 matches he played between round eight of 1910 and round 10 of 1918. For all his achievements Dick Lee remained a modest, self-effacing man. He had a slow, deliberate way of speaking and his nature was said to be so retiring as to border on nervousness. That might explain why he avoided the captaincy for so long, though he did lead the team — against his wishes — in 1920 and 1921. He strongly advocated “clean living”, saying he never touched alcohol and always kept regular hours. Employed at a local boot factory, he could sometimes be found having a kick with local kids in the street at lunchtime. To many in Collingwood, Dick Lee was revered as a god. When the Coronation Honours were announced in 1911, a lad on a train was heard to exclaim: “What? Dick Lee not knighted!” Lee avoided publicity throughout his career, but his deeds ensured he was never out of the news. He retired at the end of the 1922 season, fittingly kicking a goal with his last kick in VFL football. After his retirement he continued serving as a vice-president for 17 years, in two terms. It is hard now to fully appreciate the impact Lee had on football in the first 20 years of this century. He added an artistry and adventure to forward play that had never been seen previously. He attracted crowds that watched only him, as Coleman was to do in the 1950s, and he inspired thousands of youngsters to footballing heights they had never dreamed were possible. It is often said many of football’s early heroes could only have shone in their own period, when the style of play suited them. That is not true of Dick Lee, for his genius was such that he would have been a champion in any era. – Michael Roberts]]> https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/ted-rowell/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:56:19 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/ted-rowell/ seen a game in 1915, as his burgeoning bookmaking business took up more and more of his time. Collingwood lost that match, but Rowell was – amazingly – amongst the best players. More importantly, that game allowed him to claim the title of the oldest player ever to pull on a Collingwood jumper in a VFL/AFL match, at 39 years and 94 days. It’s a record he still holds, and almost certainly always will. That was a suitably remarkable way to end a truly remarkable career that began in the quaintly-named Butchers’ Gully, just outside Castlemaine, where Ted was born back in 1876. Soon after he left school he succumbed to the lure of the 1890s gold rush in Western Australia: the boat trip to Fremantle took 12 days, and Coolgardie remained a further two train trips (and then some) away. The final 220-odd km of the journey was completed part on brumby pony and part on foot, and all in extreme heat. Rowell never had much fortune finding gold, but he was a gambler by nature and always figured that was part of the adventure. But he had better luck in the thriving Goldfields sporting environment. He played in the first ever football match at Coolgardie, won numerous hurdle and sprint races and starred at cricket. Plenty of talented footballers had made their way west seeking their fortune – Essendon’s legendary Albert Thurgood among them – but Rowell soon established a reputation as one of the stars of the competition. He was fit, fast and strong, had pace to burn and could kick the ball a mile. He kicked plenty of goals in WA, and eventually decided to try his luck in the VFL after an ex-Geelong player in the west, Joe Marmo, told him his talents were being wasted there. Rowell was courted by several clubs but opted for the Magpies, and he made an impact almost immediately with his strong marking, blinding pace and great kicking. Played mostly at half-forward in his first year, Rowell led defenders a merry dance and ended up with 31 goals in his first season, enough to take him to third place on the VFL’s table. It was a wonderful first-up season. But if his first season had exceeded expectations, his second was something else again. On the field he took his game to even higher levels, kicking 33 goals from half-forward to jointly secure the league goalkicking title (with his old goldfields opponent Thurgood). He starred in Collingwood’s first VFL Premiership, goaling with a long, long last-quarter place kick that ended Essendon’s resistance. Football historian C C Mullen would later judge Rowell to have been the ‘Champion of the Colony’ that season, and he would later win Collingwood’s retrospective Best Player award. But 1902 also brought with it the first taste of Rowell’s extraordinary ability to attract attention, even when he wasn’t trying to. Critics opened up on him after a rare poor performance against Fitzroy early in the season, with the Argus describing his performance as “useless” and “too bad to be true”. But worse was to come, with accusations emerging that he had taken a bribe to play dead that day. Rowell was outraged by the suggestions and immediately resigned on the grounds of “ungenerous treatment by outside barrackers”. He fronted the committee the next week and delivered a statutory declaration supporting his story (he had suffered two heavy blows early in the game), after which the club completely exonerated him. It was a messy incident, but fortunately resolved in time for the club’s historic trip to Tasmania, where he was one of the main instigators, along with Dick Condon and Charlie Pannam, in the invention of the stab kick. He played the rest of the 1902 Premiership season and was a star again in the back-to-back 1903 campaign. But then he stunned the football world by heading back to the Goldfields. His move came like a bolt from the blue for his Magpie teammates, and they missed him badly. Not just his football, either, for Rowell had become very popular with his colleagues, especially Jock McHale, and he was an important part of the social fabric of the club (he would often perform songs at club functions). Rowell spent just a year in the west before once more returning to Victoria Park. Or at least trying to. The VFL repeatedly refused to grant him a playing permit, and eventually forced him to watch from the sidelines for the entire 1905 season. It was hugely frustrating both for the club and for Rowell, and almost certainly cost the Pies a Premiership. By the time he finally returned to the playing field in 1906, Collingwood was in disarray under the coaching of Dick Condon. There was internal revolt that year: ‘Rosie’ Dummett quit as captain and Condon was suspended for causing internal dissension. But Rowell reigned supreme, playing like he’d never been away. The Herald voted him one of the top 10 players of the year, and many years later he would win his second club Best Player award for that comeback season. Rowell’s journey took another turn in 1907 when he found himself called upon as the club’s playing coach. But he never really took to coaching, and asked to be relieved of the role midway through 1908. He was still a highly dangerous forward – he’d kicked 32 in 1906 and 25 in 1907 – but a youngster by the name of Dick Lee was now on the scene. Rowell himself turned 30 in his first year back, so the Collingwood selectors decided to try him at full-back. That move proved to be a masterstroke. His clearing dashes from the last line of defence were a highlight, even as he lost a yard or two of pace. If the opposition scored a point, Rowell would be ready to use the resultant kick-in as the opportunity to launch one of these dashes, tapping the ball to himself then bolting out of the back half, frequently turning defence into attack with a long run and one of his trademark long kicks. Those kicks continued to be a major weapon, too, whether punts on the run or soaring place kicks from set plays. So good was his kicking that in 1906 he won a league footballers’ kicking contest. Rowell held down the key defensive post with calmness, surety and not a little excitement for a further six years. He was massive in the 1910 Premiership season, winning a gold locket for “magnificent back play”. The next year, at the ripe old age of 35, he was there in defence for Victoria at the second ANFC Carnival. His capacity for the extraordinary had showed itself again earlier that year when, at half-time in a game against Fitzroy, Rowell changed out of his footy gear into his running spikes and ran a promotional race against the world 100 yards champion, Jack Donaldson. It was a bit of PR for Donaldson’s title defence against the USA’s Charles Hollway the following week, and it worked a treat. Rowell was by now 35 and well past his best (he first ran at Stawell in 1902) but he pushed the world champ close. Most who saw it were convinced the result would have been different had the race been run 10 years earlier. Only Teddy Rowell could have pulled off a stunt like that – running a PR race at half-time of a serious football match. But that summed up Rowell’s sense of life as an adventure, and his willingness to explore every opportunity it threw up. He was certainly one of the most colourful characters ever to pull on a boot for Collingwood. But he was also one of the club’s finest players – an excitement machine who became a firm favourite of the Magpie fans, as this early 1900s ditty attests: “When Condon kicks to Pannam The crowd begin to howl. But they really pull the fence down When it goes to Teddy Rowell.” – Michael Roberts]]> https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/fred-leach/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:56:00 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/fred-leach/ John Frederick Leach was born in 1878, the second son of Englishman Thomas Leach and his South Australian wife Emma. It is not known if Thomas Leach had any sporting bloodlines, but he certainly sired three outstanding footballers. Fred Leach was part of one of Collingwood’s best performed, but least well- remembered, footballing families. His older brother, Arthur, played nearly 170 games in 11 years, while younger brother Edward also played with Collingwood, notching up 22 games in three years before crossing to Melbourne and later Richmond . Fred was by far the most talented of the three. The boys’ father was a bank manager who lived in the suburb of Heidelberg, but he later moved into the country and became a grazier while his sons remained in Melbourne. Fred and Arthur both moved to Surrey Hills and began playing with the Boroondara Football Club in the Metropolitan Junior Football Association. The two eldest Leach brothers performed well with Boroondara — well enough to gain selection in the Combined Juniors team which played Fitzroy prior to the VFL’s inaugural season in 1897. That was all the break Fred needed. His play in that game was so good that Collingwood, the reigning VFA Premiers, enticed him to Victoria Park for a training run just a few games into the season. Several weeks later the 19-year old with the boyish face travelled to Adelaide with the Collingwood team on one of its mid-season trips, and showed enough promise there to be included in the senior side upon his return. In his very first game, against Carlton, he sprained his ankle and was forced out of the team. It was an unnervingly accurate portent of the misfortune that lay ahead for Fred Leach. In those early games he played mainly in defence. But when Bill Strickland retired at the end of 1897 the centre spot became available, and Leach snared it. It was not long before he had established himself as one of the premier footballers of his time, and probably the game’s most dangerous centreman. Fred Leach was a magnificent athlete with a superb build ideally suited to playing in the pivot position. He stood about 183cm (6ft) tall, weighed around 82.5kg (13 stone) and was said to be able to run 100 yards in almost even time. He was a vastly different type of player to his predecessor in the centre post, Strickland, wandering much further from home — something that was almost revolutionary in those days of strict adherence to position play. “Contrary to all the traditions of successful football neither Leach nor Charlie Pannam (on the wing) troubles about keeping his place,” wrote “Observer” in The Argus in 1903. “In fact, they go with the ball and are really roving place men. That sort of thing is only possible to a very good or very cute player.” Leach was a scrupulously fair player and, though it was said that he “did not spare his opponents” in bumping contests, he lacked Strickland’s vigour. Instead Leach created his own kind of mayhem — one based around an exceptionally high skill level. His height gave him an advantage in marking contests and his pace an edge in ground duels. His kicking was said to be “near perfection” and his ball-handling first-class. Indeed, “perfect” is a word which often used to crop up when Fred Leach’s play was discussed. In 1899 one critic described his football as “the perfection of artistic cleverness”. In 1901 another scribe described a Leach display as “a perfect exhibition of all-round football that compelled the admiration of every individual by whom the match was witnessed”. Even opposing fans were  in awe, as one Fitzroy fanatic revealed in 1900. “If we had Fred Leach we’d lick creation,” the man told The Herald’s “Kickero”. “He’s the wonder of the age.” Nearly 50 years after Leach’s retirement, the former Collingwood trainer Wal Lee pronounced him to be the greatest player the club had produced. Former teammate Ted Rowell agreed. “He was almost irresistible in the centre, equally good in the air or on the ground,” wrote former teammate Teddy Rowell years later in The Sporting Globe. A one-time opponent, South Melbourne’s Peter Burns, later rated Leach as the best centreman he had seen — a view also aired by The Herald in the 1920s and by former Carlton coach Jack Worrall. “The forwards ahead knew what to expect when Leach got the ball,” wrote Burns. “Let him get his foot to the ball and it was down the throat of a forward.” Even Jock McHale, renowned for his harsh judgements, could not suppress his admiration. “You haven’t seen a centreman if you haven’t seen Fred Leach,” he used to tell others. Unfortunately, nobody could ever be too sure just when they were going to see Fred Leach. He suffered many injuries, but often just seemed interested in playing when the mood took him. In his seven seasons at Collingwood he retired three times and never once managed to string together more than ten games in a row — even when those games were counted over two seasons. Yet in 1898 he was so determined to play in one game that, for reasons that are unclear, he took to the field under an alias, “Wilson” (the same alias that was used several years later by Bill Proudfoot). Contrast that with his approach in 1901, when he absented himself from three games in the middle of a career-best season in order to holiday in Sydney and Brisbane! Ironically this was the year in which, according to the club’s annual report, he was named by the press as the competition’s champion player of the season. He would later be named Collingwood’s Best Player in both that season and 1900. He retired early in 1902, saying he “wanted to keep out of the bumps and bruises”, missing the first nine games of the year. Somehow he was persuaded to join the club on its historic “stab kick” trip to Tasmania in July, and recommenced his VFL career on the team’s return. It is just as well he did, because he played a major role in the club’s first VFL Premiership later that year. The Magpies surprised everyone by playing  Leach at centre half-back on Thurgood in the Grand Final, and he did a superb job keeping the Essendon star quiet. With Leach blanketing Thurgood, Collingwood won the game comfortably. But 1903 was to see the end of Fred’s erratic but brilliant career. He missed two of the first five games through illness, then broke his nose while playing against South Melbourne in Round 9 and promptly retired. Of course Collingwood had seen Leach’s “retirements” before, firstly at age 21 in 1899 (it lasted just two games) and then again in 1902. But this time it was permanent. Complications set in after his nose operation, compelling him to miss the rest of the season. Although he trained with Collingwood in 1904 press reports at the time said that Leach was “determined not to strip” for the club. In 1905 he tried to go to Melbourne, but Collingwood initially blocked the move, saying he was still “a desirable player and fit for the team”. Leach then appealed to the League but his permit was refused. Collingwood did eventually grant the clearance, but the VFL then revoked his permit and he could not play anyway. Instead he returned to his old junior club, Boroondara, which had only that year amalgamated with Hawthorn and adopted the latter’s name. Just three years later John Frederick Leach contracted typhoid fever and died. He was only 30. His life, like his football career, had been tragically brief. Talents like Fred Leach are a rare commodity, and demand appreciation no matter how briefly they might hold centre stage. To this day he remains one of the most accomplished players in Collingwood’s history, and one of the most enigmatic. He was a reluctant star who promised even more than he delivered, yet his artistry was such that what he did deliver was memorable enough to leave an indelible impression. It was this lasting impact that was touched upon in Collingwood’s annual report of 1908, which contained this simple tribute: “When the deeds of Collingwood are recounted, Fred must live in the hearts and minds of all old club members. Those who saw his play are not likely to forget him.” – Michael Roberts]]> https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/dick-condon/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:55:50 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/dick-condon/ Sporting Globe. Charlie Pannam Snr concurred: “He could turn like a hare and had the faculty of marking the ball and going off in the same stride. [He would] take a mark and, while in the air, twist round to face goalwards.” Eddie Drohan concurred. “What a dance he led players with his quick getaway after flying for a mark,” Drohan said. “He seemed to spin in the air, always finding an opening for a quick dash with the ball”. In addition to his ball skills and agility, Condon added other weapons, including balance, game-reading and cleverness. He was “as full of tricks as a cage full of monkeys”, according to Wal Lee. Former teammate Ted Rowell said he was “cunning, clever, almost uncanny.” “He was the brainiest and cleverest footballer I ever saw,” said Pannam. His knowledge of the game was also exceptional. Drohan again: “At players’ meetings at Collingwood all were invited to have a say, but Dick held us all spellbound. He could discourse on the game in a manner that inspired, being one of the few who could impart his ideas to others”. One player who benefited immensely from such tutelage was a young Dick Lee, to whom Condon took a particular liking. This package of talents led many to brand him the greatest player of his time. Eddie Drohan once described him as a “footballing freak.” “I have never seen a player who made as many opportunities for his side and at the same time so few mistakes,” he wrote. “When at Collingwood I studied Condon’s movements and tricks, but he held sole world’s patent rights for most of them. No player could extricate himself from a jam with such dexterity. When he looked to be hopelessly hemmed in he would back out like a crayfish, always with the ball. His baulking and feinting too, nonplussed every man he met. There was no aspect of the game in which he was not the master, and he possessed qualities that no other player could hope to possess.” But for all his brilliance, it’s impossible to look at Condon’s career without highlighting the other side of the ledger. At its most benign, that included a propensity for selfish play. As the Age noted in 1899, he would be of double the value to his side “if he could be induced to remember that C-O-N-D-O-N does not spell Collingwood.” More troubling was his rebellious nature. Within a year of joining Collingwood from junior clubs Excelsior, Primrose and Collingwood Juniors, he was hauled before the committee for disobeying the captain (Strickland). The next year he refused to wear the lace-up jumpers favoured by the rest of the team. In 1900, while captain, he was suspended for three weeks for abusing an umpire. Soon after he came back he came to blows with a teammate, Artie Robson, at a three-quarter time break, and later in the season threatened to take his team from the ground in protest at the umpiring. In the next game, however, it all went to hell in a handcart. Condon violently abused the game’s most famous umpire, Ivo Crapp (delivering the famous insult, ‘Your girl’s a bloody whore!’), and was hit with a lifetime ban by the VFL. That suspension wasn’t lifted until early in 1902. His temperament didn’t stop his teammates from electing him captain in 1899 – a role that ended with his ‘lifetime’ ban – or the club from appointing him as coach in 1905-06. He had a wonderful football brain, and the same feisty spirit that so often caused trouble also produced a competitiveness that could be inspirational. Still, it surprised nobody when his short tenure as coach also ended in controversial fashion – suspended by his own club for several weeks in 1906 for being the cause of dissension within the team. Yet, just the year before, Condon had been near-universally considered the best footballer in the competition. Such were the paradoxes that dotted his career. Condon left Collingwood at the end of that year and headed to Tasmania (where, ironically, he took up umpiring!). He returned to the VFL in 1908 when he joined Richmond without a clearance, and the Magpies responded by refusing him Life Membership: for decades he was the only 10-year player to be denied the honour. That wrong was finally corrected in 2012, and Dick Condon’s Collingwood story was at last complete. It had been a hell of a ride, but one thing was undeniable: for all the controversy and all the angst, he was one of the most brilliant footballers the Magpies have ever produced. – Michael Roberts]]> https://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/bill-strickland/ Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:55:49 +0000 http://forever.collingwoodfc.com.au/players/bill-strickland/ Bill Strickland. Strickland was one of the 40 players running around Victoria Park the day the Pies played their first ever game as a senior football club, back in 1892. The only trouble was, on that day, he was playing for Carlton. But a year later he crossed to Collingwood as an experienced leader, where he went on to become Collingwood’s first great captain and one of the pivotal figures in the club’s early years – helping save the Magpies from early extinction and eventually piloting them to a Premiership and into the VFL. When Collingwood first encountered Bill Strickland, he was one of the stars of the game with Carlton. He’d been there for eight years, including one as captain, having originally crossed from Brunswick. In 1891, the Sporting Standard described him as “one of the best all-round footballers of the day”. He was a broad-shouldered, strong-limbed player who played mainly in the centre or on the ball (‘following’). He was robust, fast and a good mark, though he occasionally drew criticism for play that some observers deemed too aggressive. Collingwood, as the newest club on the block, could scarcely have imagined that a player with Strickland’s profile could end up at Victoria Park. But there was a dispute over the captaincy at Princes Park, and Strickland became dissatisfied with both his fellow players and the committee. Both sides decided it would be better to part ways after the 1892 season. This was Collingwood’s opportunity – and they pounced. To the surprise of many, Strickland agreed to join a team whose first season had produced only three wins, 14 losses and a draw. Inexplicably, however, the VFA’s Permit Committee refused to grant Strickland his permit, without which he could not play. The dispute dragged on into the season, and numerous letters appeared in major newspapers criticising the committee for its puzzling and unreasonable stance. Collingwood appealed and, amidst a good deal of public outcry, the original decision was overturned. “Strick” eventually took the field for the first time against Essendon in Collingwood’s fourth game of the season. He looked rusty in the first half but improved markedly in the second. After the club’s next game, a victory against Williamstown, he was elected captain to replace McPherson. Soon, reporters were proclaiming him to be “the Strick of old”. Almost immediately, Collingwood’s fortunes improved – both on and off the field. Strickland returned to his best form and, by 1894, newspapers were remarking that he had “rediscovered all the dash and cleverness which rendered him one of the most accomplished of Carltonians.” “He marks the ball every time it comes his way and never fails to kick it into the part of the field where his men are likely to make the best use of it,” said one reporter. A subsequent analysis of the club’s season revealed that Strickland was the team’s best player that year. The move to Victoria Park reinvigorated Strickland’s career. So much so that, by 1896, during which he turned 32, he was named as Champion of the Colony and widely noted to be one of the two best players of the season. Again he was retrospectively adjudged to have been Collingwood’s best player that year. Just as importantly, he was by that stage regarded as one of the finest and most astute captains in football. His efforts in the grand final were particularly memorable. After a nervous start (Collingwood initially refused to be photographed before the game for fear that to do so would jinx the team), the Pies settled down quickly. It was an exceptionally hot day, and Strickland marshalled his troops superbly to ensure they would be fit for the run home. He implored them to “take it easy” in the third quarter, then swung the high-marking defender Jack Monohan to centre half-forward for the last. Monohan’s final quarter destroyed South Melbourne but Strickland also played a splendid game, being “as spry as a colt” and displaying “masterly generalship”. Collingwood’s first flag owed much to Strick’s efforts, and especially to his nimble football brain. His leadership had proved vital to the club in other ways too. At a time when there were no coaches and the captain played a major role in shaping a club, Strickland gave Collingwood direction and helped instil discipline that had been lacking in the first season. He was ready to stamp his authority, even where star players were concerned (in 1895, the brilliant Dick Condon was called before the committee and made to promise to “obey the captain on the field without stopping to argue”), and in so doing set standards that underpinned the Magpie successes of the next 40 years. Strickland had originally intended to retire after the 1896 season, but his good form and fitness convinced him to stay on to see the Magpies through their first year in the VFL. At the end of his playing career, the 1897 Annual Report said: “The place of such a fair and honest man, combining as he did the qualities of a first-class player with the ability of an able general, will be hard to replace. What Strick has been to Collingwood and the game, only those closely associated with it can estimate and his fellow workers feel his loss will be a severe one” But Strick was not lost to the game, or to Collingwood. He became Collingwood’s first official coach in 1904, having been an unofficial mentor to the team for years before. He spent more than a decade on the committee, as vice-president and VFL delegate, and also served with the Australasian Football Council and even managed Victorian touring teams. Previously a “licensed victualler” (in more modern parlance he ran a pub) in Johnston Street, Strickland took up employment with the Federal Government and moved to Sydney. There he continued his involvement in football, coaching a police team with considerable success, and also spent more time pursuing his other great interest — fishing. He was also a composer of music, once having written a piece called Quadrille, Magpies which the local band played at the unveiling of a new clock on the club’s grandstand in 1894. Strickland lived in Sydney for the rest of his days and survived until the grand old age of 95. Bill Strickland undoubtedly earned the title of being a great servant of the game: his contributions to football were extensive. But his time as a Magpie player and captain – and all that he did outside the playing arena – had an even more profound impact on those around him, and on all at Victoria Park. He remains a true pioneering hero of the Collingwood Football Club. – Bill Strickland]]>